Chapter 466: Dust Settles

In the morning of Constantinople, seagulls circled over the Sea of Marmara.

Zhu Yong stood beneath the dome of Hagia Sophia, looking up at the massive mosaic.

The Virgin cradling the Christ child appeared faintly in the morning light, the golden background set with Colorful glass scattering mottled shadows.

"Prince, the Venetian governor has sent a messenger," Wang Gui said as he entered from the church doorway, his footsteps echoing in the vast hall.

"Wait outside the city and tell them they may submit to Great Ming, provided they retain the Venetian Republic's trade route privileges."

Zhu Yong turned, his gaze shifting away from the millennial mural.

"The Venetians are shrewd; once the Ottoman Empire collapsed, they immediately knew whom to turn to next."

"The Mediterranean trade routes have been run by the Venetians for centuries, ever since the time of the Crusades."

"Tell them the trade routes may be kept, but they must follow Great Ming's rules: pay taxes, obtain licenses, no monopolies, no bullying the market.

If they agree, they stay; if not, the Genoese are still waiting outside the city," Zhu Yong said, striding out of the church.

Wang Gui responded with a nod and hurried to follow.

Constantinople's Street was a bit cleaner than a month ago, but it had only gone from "impassable" to "barely walkable."

Longxiang Army soldiers, accompanied by captives, cleaned daily; waste was carted out of the city, and excrement was treated with lime water before being buried.

The accumulated stench of rot in the air finally lightened a bit, though it was far from fresh.

A few local townsfolk crouched at the alley entrance, holding freshly issued black bread, watching the armored soldiers pass by with caution.

Having gotten used to it, they were no longer afraid.

"Prince, the Genoese envoy has also arrived, waiting at the harbor," Wang Gui added.

"Send General Feng to negotiate; whatever the Genoese want, the Venetians will double, let them compete, and after the contest we collect taxes."

Wang Gui's mouth twitched, and he turned to issue the order.

Zhu Yong walked to the harbor, where dozens of steamships were moored, their smokestacks belching black smoke, and workers were loading and unloading cargo.

Boxes of silver from America were being offloaded, while boxes of Gold and Silver collected from Europe were being loaded aboard.

Last month Chang Yuchun sent a military report stating that the Inca Empire's gold was inexhaustible; the golden statues in the Cusco temple alone had melted over three hundred thousand taels.

"Father!" Zhu Qiong Jiong leapt from a ship, bearing a Wolf Fang Club, its head smeared with fresh blood.

"Killed again?" Zhu Yong glanced at his son.

"He slaughtered a detachment of routed troops hiding in a cave north of the city, mistaking them for Ottomans; they turned out to be Bulgarians, kneeling and shouting 'God' as if they were being slaughtered like pigs."

Zhu Qiong Jiong propped the Wolf Fang Club against the Wooden Stake on the dock.

"Where is your fifth uncle?"

"He is in the city counting captives, saying they seized several Serbian nobles and asking how to deal with them: confiscate land, register property, send them to mining; the fifth uncle said he understood and assured you."

Zhu Yong said nothing, his gaze turning toward the distant sea.

Across the Mediterranean lay Africa, Egypt, the territories of the Mamluk Sultanate.

Those lands would be visited sooner or later.

But not now.

"Prince, Prince Yan requests your presence at the palace for a council," an Imperial Troops soldier ran in from the city.

Zhu Yong turned and walked toward the city.

Constantinople's palace sat on a hill at the city's center, originally the Ottoman Sultan's stone palace, whitewashed outside, more imposing than the French palace.

In the great hall, Zhu Di stood before a map, holding a freshly received military report.

"Second Prince, news has arrived from the south," Zhu Di said, stepping forward as he saw Zhu Yong enter.

"General Feng reports that both Venice and Genoa have submitted; Milan, Florence, and Naples have also sent envoys, willing to submit."

Zhu Yong glanced at the map.

The Italian Peninsula, from north to south, was densely marked with the names of each city-state.

"What about the Pope?"

"The Pope fled north with the cardinal bishops; rumor has it he went to the Holy Roman Empire, seeking Sigismund's aid."

A faint smile tugged at Zhu Yong's mouth.

Martin V indeed fled quickly, abandoning Rome.

"Send people to Rome, clear the churches, lock up the priests, and wait for Confucian scholars and Taoist priests to start teaching."

"What if the Pope returns?"

"He can't return; Rome belongs to Great Ming now. If he does, he'll be seized and sent to Yingtian Prefecture," Zhu Yong said calmly.

Zhu Di nodded, turned, and went to make arrangements.

Li Wenzhong strode in from outside.

"Prince, the small northern states have all submitted: Lithuania, Estonia, Livonia, each sending envoys."

"Have them wait, follow Great Ming's rules: confiscate land, register property, send the nobles to Yingtian Prefecture for resettlement."

Li Wenzhong responded, then added, "Over at Muscovy, Vasili II still seeks negotiations, offering to cede territory and pay reparations, only to keep his throne."

"No throne; send him to Yingtian Prefecture to retire, Imperial Father will assign him a sinecure."

Li Wenzhong nodded, turned, and left.

Zhu Yong stood before the map, his gaze sweeping across the European continent.

Portugal, Castile, Aragon, France, England, Burgundy, Germany, Italy, Poland, Lithuania, Muscovy, Crimea, Ottoman…

One by one the flags fell, and one by one the golden dragon flags rose.

Over ninety percent of the European continent's lands were already in Great Ming's grasp.

The remaining small states could be taken with a few tens of thousands of troops.

"Prince, dinner is ready," Wang Gui entered, carrying a tray.

Zhu Yong took it, a bowl of rice, a plate of pickles, and two pieces of marinated meat.

Europe's rice is shipped from Great Ming, traveling thousands of miles, more expensive than gold.

He took two bites, then suddenly remembered something.

"Wang Gui, any news from America?"

"General Chang sent a military report the day before yesterday, saying the Inca Empire has already been pacified and is being wrapped up in the Andes Mountains; the Aztec side is also stable, the populace has been registered, and land is being allocated."

General Lan Yu led his troops northward, already entering the Qiqi Mek people's Grassland.

Zhu Yong nodded.

America, too, is almost finished.

He set down the bowl and walked to the window.

Constantinople's night was very quiet; in the distance on the Marmara Sea, the steamboat lights flickered like stars.

Two years have passed.

We set out in March of the twentieth year of Hongwu, and now, exactly two years later.

Portugal, Castile, Aragon, France, England, Germany, Italy, Poland, Crimea, Ottoman… city after city fell, flag after flag was raised.

The European continent is finally conquered.

"Second Prince, what are you thinking?" Zhu Di came up from behind.

Zhu Yong shook his head.

"What's the next battle?" Zhu Di asked.

"We won't fight anymore, let's rest first; Europe is taken, but there's still Africa, the southern part of America, and that continent of Australia. Chang Yuchun is already in America; there's a vast tract of land in northern America, so let him keep campaigning."

In Australia, Shuang'er will keep watch; for Africa, let Mu Ying go.

Zhu Di nodded and said nothing more.